


There

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, MWPP Era, Marauders' Era, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus is sick in the hospital wing, and Severus brings him his homework.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Remus straightens up as soon as he hears the footsteps coming, trying vainly to look not as much of a mess as he is.

Pity still flashes across Severus’ dark eyes as he draws back the curtains. He replaces them behind himself and takes a seat next to the bed, dropping a collection of books on the nightstand. He mutters sullenly, “I don’t see why your _friends_ can’t bring you homework.” There’s a certain venom injected into the word ‘friends,’ like there always is. Remus sniffs, smoothing the white blanket out over his lap.

He’s too frail like this. He’s almost as pale as Severus, and when he tugs at his sleeve, the simple movement makes him double over with a new fit of coughing—he covers his mouth automatically and glows with embarrassment. Severus’ arms shoot out to help him settle back down, and one hand flattens across his forehead, shoving him into the pillows. Remus doesn’t try to sit up again. Severus’ long fingers brush Remus’ sweat-slicked bangs aside. Remus doesn’t want those skilled digits to ever leave, but inevitably, they do.

Feeling awkward lying down while Severus sits, Remus mumbles, “They never remember... homework isn’t exactly their top priority...”

“Just blowing things up and torturing others?” Severus grumbles. Remus frowns but doesn’t counter it.

Instead he says quietly, “Thank you. ...I... I didn’t think you’d come this time...” His voice breaks off, throat sore, before he can add, ‘not after....’

Severus’ thin lips go thinner. He’s quiet for a moment, leaving Remus to nervously wonder what he’s thinking. The most likely comeback would be something along the lines of him having to—they’re often paired in Potions, and Remus is only a helpful partner if he’s caught up. But Severus doesn’t say that. Eventually he works into a bit of a sneer and grunts, “I’m mad at myself. I should’ve figured it out. You’re sick every month around the full moon, and you’ve got all those scars. It should’ve been obvious.”

Remus’ face automatically falls at the mention of his scars. It always makes him feel ugly on top of miserable. He gathers the strength to murmur reassuringly, “You would’ve figured it out eventually.”

“Hopefully in a better way,” Severus grits out. Remus nods hurriedly—he doesn’t ever want Severus to think he was a part of that. He’s apologized too many times to count, and he’s spent more than one night crying over it, and he still hasn’t fully forgiven Sirius. He doesn’t know if he ever will. It must show on his face—his hands start twitching and he starts to chew his bottom lip—because Severus’ sneer crumbles in favour of another simple frown. “You better not say you’re sorry again.”

“I am sorry,” Remus sniffs. “It’s all my fault, and I could’ve... I could’ve...”

“It wasn’t your fault, and you didn’t, so stop.”

Remus’ eyebrows knit together. He’s getting emotional again. He always does when he thinks of what happened. Of what might’ve happened. He looks away—looks down at his hands. They’re trembling. Severus’ hand lands atop the closest one, longer fingers wrapping gently around Remus’ own.

Severus’ voice is soft and gentle as he insists quietly, “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” Remus shakes his head. “You know what I am now, and I... I...”

“I don’t care.” Severus’ hand squeezes his; Remus looks over. His eyes are wet. Severus looks as grave and serious as always, and he repeats slowly, “I don’t care about it. It doesn’t change who you are.” Remus sniffs and shakes his head again. Of course it does. But...

“You don’t know what it means to me that you don’t hate me.” Remus lifts the hand that isn’t being held to wipe at his eyes, the back of his hand rubbing over his nose and mouth. He feels like a wreck. He always does, this close to the full moon, but it’s worse when there’s an audience—especially one he really _cares_ about. Remus didn’t even ask Severus to bring him his books—that’s how good Severus is to him, despite everything that happened, and despite everything that’s always happened. Remus is still friends with James and Sirius, and they still aren’t any nicer to Severus. Remus feels guilty all the time, and every time Severus comes to him alone, he wonders if it’ll be the last time.

Severus mutters, “You’re still beautiful,” before shuffling a little closer. Remus hiccups between tears, and then he blushes furiously; he’s already so embarrassed. Severus leans over him, draping the other arm over the bed, next to Remus’ pillow. Remus blinks up at him dazedly, digesting the words.

Then Severus leans down to softly press their lips together—something breaks in Remus, and his arms dart out to hold Severus tight.


End file.
